How I Met your Father
by Rantzilla
Summary: Not NEARLY as good as the title implies. If you value your sanity, I suggest you don't read. It is pure CRACK. Complete CRACK. And nothing but CRACK. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ, DON'T BLAME THE WRITER FOR ANY SANITY LOST IF YOU DO READ. M for bondage.


**WARNING: CONTENT MAY BE DISTURBING FOR ANY AND ALL SUFIN FANS, IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, CAN'T BEAR SEEING SWEDEN UKE, OR YOU VALUE YOUR SANITY I SUGGEST LEAVING NOW. **

You have been warned, and I cannot be held accountable for your actions beyond this point.

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**How I Met your Father**

One fine summer day in the streets of New York, a certain Swedish hottie strolled down the sidewalk scantily clad in tight leather bondage from his previous encounter with Denmark. The leash of his collar dangled inches from the ground and swayed back and forth behind him like a tail, only not because it was attached to his neck.

Maybe a neck-tail.

In any case, his tiny leather short-shorts hugged his very large bottom deliciously and all of the woman who passed him (and men, coincidentally) stopped and ogled his very finely sculpted ass.

It should really be characterized as the "Walk of Shame," considering he was walking back from a certain Dane's apartment after getting drunk and doing naughty things with the man he so claimed to hate (and still did hate) and somehow ended up getting topped.

Though his Walk of Shame could be deemed a Walk of Glory because he made it look so good. All of the other whores (yes, I DID just imply Sweden was a whore) who were out for one-night-stands and were blatantly returning home from their dirty deeds the night before could only look ashamed and horrible since they had no access to make-up in another man's apartment.

Sweden, however, only managed to glow radiantly in the morning sun- permeating masculinity and testosterone in his tight leather shirt, spiked collar, and short shorts that displayed his giant manly parts for the world to see. His expression remained stoic behind those glasses, however, and his cool composure in such a ridiculously (yet oddly alluring) revealing outfit made him strangely appealing to people, and he soon had a following.

Suddenly, a stereotypical 80s guy ran up with a stereo seated on his shoulders and he started playing the Thriller, which the Swede and his followers started dancing to in unison. Sweden was obviously Michael Jackson, making his crotch-grabs very graphic and fanservice-y indeed. No one really minded, though things started to turn ugly when Sweden started shooting people thinking they were zombies.

A few blocks down people grew tired of getting shot and dancing to the incredibly long and boring (yet incredibly sung) song by MJ the alleged child molester, and somehow Sweden had managed to change into a red jumpsuit in the few blocks they had gone, making him slightly less attractive to his audience. He hardly even noticed that his preceding had bailed anyway.

He fingered the pistol that he still held in his hands before throwing it to some guy mugging an old lady in a nearby alley. There was a scream and gunshot as Sweden continued merrily on his way.

Suddenly, from the apartments above, he heard a woman scream, "MY BABY" and Sweden stepped out from underneath the awning of the building just in time to see a small bundle of blankets fall from an eight story window. People around him screamed as he just stared until it hit the awning and bounced like one of those really fun bouncy balls you can get from machines in toy stores and stuff but that's kind of a cruel comparison considering it's a human being bouncing but whatever, the author doesn't' really care.

The baby landed in Sweden's arms perfectly, crying loudly before catching sight of the Swede and calming down considerably. They stared at each other, calculating, as the building's fourth wall collapsed and then Berwald just decided to kidnap the baby because it would be his future wife.

And this is how Sweden met Finland.

"MOM," Sealand complained loudly to Sweden, "THAT'S A HORRIBLE BEDTIME STORY!"

Then Finland walked in and pointed a magnum at the irritating nation, who barely had time to yelp "THAT'S A KILL SHOT!" before he was shot in the forehead then burst into flames and was reborn as an ugly beaked creature from the ashes.

Finland turned back his hat and threw a Pokeball at the bird, effectively knocking it out. He put the newly born bird into the tight, air-sealed ball and put it on his belt, yelling, "I CAUGHT YOU, GENERIC BIRD POKEMON!" unnecessarily loudly and to no one in particular.

"My hero!" cooed Sweden, suddenly acquiring a Southern belle accent.

Then Finland swept Sweden up into his arms after the Swede put on his wedding gown, and the two proceeded to cross the threshold to the outside world. Or they tried to. Finland kept hitting Sweden's head on the doorframe and eventually they just decided to crab walk out like true men. This once again allowed the world a glorious view of Sweden's man parts until Finland set them all on fire with the help of his Fairly Odd Parents.

The two crab walked into the sunset, causing a major traffic jam in Times Square until one truck driver got fed up and just rammed into the two of them.

Sweden is now a vegetable, Finland is trying to decide whether to pull the plug.

He does, and then captures the reborn Swede in another tiny ball on his belt.

And they all live relatively happily every after.

FIN.

Get it. That's a pun. Like Fin. Like Finland. Only like 'the end,' too. Hurr. Hurr hurr.

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If this didn't scar you for life, I have the deepest respect for you.

This is me in a crack-writing mood. Frightening, isn't it?

And this is what Joey requested. SuFin. Then she regretted it and I can see why.

Kbye.


End file.
